


Immunity

by slkdfowiejsdxk (BottomBitchBarnes)



Series: Stucky AUs [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Artist!Steve, Bucky is really curious about writing and drawing and paper, But he /is/ a nixie which is like a cross between a naiad and a pixie from German mythology, Gen, He's a shapeshifter, M/M, Mythical creature!Bucky, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve is 65 percent deaf, Steve teaches him to read+write, Steve teaches mythology at the local university and Bucky goes in and corrects his lectures, and his mom was a siren, except not really b/c Bucky isn't technically a mermaid, if you startle Bucky he (and his clothes) turn back into a puddle of water momentarily, mermaid au, siren!Bucky, so he /should/ be immune...........
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BottomBitchBarnes/pseuds/slkdfowiejsdxk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bucky is hungry and Steve looks delicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 15/03/20

**Author's Note:**

> So Steve is pre-serum for this fic. As for Bucky... Winter Soldier, but with both arms flesh. THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE ERASURE OF DISABILITY! In every other fic I write, he has a prosthetic. I just couldn't think of a way for it to work, with him being a shapeshifter. He could just grow a new arm. I'm sorry if this harshes your mellow, but I really did try to think of a way for it to work. :(  
> I hope you like this fic as much as I do! There are some really funny moments, and Bucky's so super cute!! :)

The thin, blond man sat by the bank of the river, his folded legs supporting one of the flippy white rectangles the observer the man did not yet know about was so curious of. The man came often, his coverings getting wet as he sat near or sometimes in the water, studying the minnows and the small frogs and the dragonflies and sometimes moving a strange, orangey stick across the flippy rectangle. This was the fourteenth time that the observer had noticed the man, but it was the first time that he had decided to make himself known.

He materialized a form from the water, long dark hair and blue eyes drawn from a half-forgotten encounter centuries ago. He drew himself to the surface and slowly, as not to startle the man, began to walk closer. About halfway to where he was headed, he realized that he had no coverings upon his frame, and that this was not a commonly acceptable practice in human society. He drew up a simple garment of knit cloth, likened to that that the man was wearing, from the water, just before the man turned and saw him. The man smiled.

"Hello," the man said. This was not good. He should not have given him the chance to speak. If the prey spoke, it always put up a fight. He nodded in acknowledgment before pulling himself up to sit on the dewy, junejuly grass. He opened his mouth after a pause and began to sing. He sang of the green place that he used to live in, and the rainy one before that, and the sunny, hot one before that, and before long the man was drooping under his spell.  
"Wait," the man shook himself awake.  
"Who are you? My name's Steve," he offered. _**Wrong,**_ all of the enchanter's senses screamed. The man- Steve- shouldn't have been able to think clearly enough to speak. The spirit leaped from the bank, backing into the water and drawing it to ice like a shield in front of himself.  
_"What are you?"_ He demanded, his voice split in two part harmony even when speaking. Steve's brow furrowed.  
"I...?" But the spirit was already collapsing back out of his human form.

*  
*   *

Steve returned the next day, this time bringing along his watercolour box and canvas book in addition to the field journals and sketchbooks he usually brought. By the time he reached the particular spot on the shore, his back ached- heavy backpacks plus scoliosis? No, thank you. His chiropractor would be raking in a few extra appointments' worth this month. But it would be worth it, he hoped, if he could coax the naiad (Siren? Merrow?) out of the water again to draw him. He had been fucking gorgeous. And what Steve could hear of his voice(es?) had almost pulled Steve under. _Steve,_ who was 65% _deaf_ and whose _mother was a merrow_ and who should therefore be _immune_  to these sorts of things.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he called out in his mother's language, not really knowing where to start.  
"I don't hear very well, and my mother was a merrow, like you? I think that's why it didn't work on me? I don't know. I don't know who you are. You should come out and show me. If you want. I didn't mean to scare you. I just- it'd be nice if you didn't eat me. I mean, it would somewhat be cannibalism anyway, and who really wants that?" He laughed nervously and looked down at where his feet were hanging over the edge of the bank.  
_"I will not eat you."_ Steve looked up to see the last split second of the water burbling up into the same form as the day before.  
_"You look like you would be too chewy anyway."_ Steve let out a sound that was trying to be a laugh, but wasn't.  
_"I am not a merrow. I am a nix. I can take any form I please."_

"A nix? So, fairly solitary. Do you have a name?" Steve asked. The nix's eyes betrayed his confusion.  
_"What use would I have for a name?"_ He countered.  
_"I have no one to converse with, and any exceptions thus far, I have eaten."_  
"Except me." Steve pointed out.  
_"Except you."_ He agreed.  
"Well, _I_ have to call you something." Steve decided.  
"Especially since it's only the beginning of the summer and I have designs on coming back here every day I possibly can until mid-November." He let out a long breath. He patted the bank next to him in invitation, but the nix just cocked his head. Right. Water spirit. They don't get tired.

"Where are you from?" He asked, trying to get some context to draw up a name.  
_"I do not know exactly what humans call it. Before I was here, I was across the Salt."_ Steve hummed.  
"Humans call the Salt 'the ocean.' But there are two, Atlantic and Pacific. Do you know which one? What did the humans look like?" The nix seemed to decide that sitting would be more comfortable.  
_"Fair, like you. There were also a lot of... Sheep? And it was green. So green. With lots of rain.  And wolves."_ Steve thought for a minute.  
"Merrows, Selkies, Nymphs, or Nixies? Or, if there was more than one type."  
_"Merrows and nymphs. Never met one like me before. Except my mother and my sister."_ Steve bit his lip in thought.

"One minute." He went digging through his backpack in search of a pencil that actually had lead in it and his field journal. He found what he was looking for and began to draw a rough map as he spoke.  
"So, green, with lots of rain, sheep, wolves, and white people? Sounds like Europe to me. Specifically, from which other water spirits you said were there, either Ireland, Great Britain, Germany, or Denmark. In the languages the local humans speak, Ireland- or maybe Éire, depending on when you left, Wales- or Cymru, England, Scotland- or Albain, Deutschland, and Danmark. Do any of those sound familiar?"

The nix didn't answer. He was too fascinated with Steve's pencil and notebook. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he swiped his fingers across the lines on the page, flinching his hand away when the graphite smudged. He yanked the notebook from Steve's grasp and held just the covers, tilting the book from side to side in fascination as the pages flipped.  
_"These lines are beautiful,"_ he observed in reference to the cramped, sloppy cursive that filled the book, margin to spine to facing margin. Steve chuckled.  
"If you sit still long enough for me, I can make lines that look like you. And if you let me name you, I'll make it waterproof so that you can keep it and it won't fall apart in the water." The nix seemed to consider this.

 _"I heard the humans call the river I lived in last 'Buchanan'."_ Steve nodded, reconciling the name with the creature before him.  
"Well, 'Buchanan' is a grandpa name. Can I call you Bucky?" The nix nodded.  
"Then, it's good to meet you, Bucky," he offered his hand to shake. The angle of Bucky's head tilt increased slightly. Right. Human customs. Nix. Steve drew his hand back awkwardly.  
"We'll get there. Now, do you want me to draw you?" Bucky's face lit up.  
_"With the pretty lines?"_ He asked.  
"Yeah, with the pretty lines. You have a really good face for proportion. Or. I mean. You chose your form well, I guess?" Bucky smiled.  
_"There are presets; I must choose from amongst the faces I have seen."_ Steve raised his eyebrows.  
"Did you eat that guy?"  
_"No. He was a Selkie I met on my way across the Salt. I do not eat other children of the water. Or, in your case, grandchildren."_ Steve relaxed a little.

"Can you go sit on that rock there? And- if you're okay with it could you take your shirt off?" Bucky shrugged and let the shirt dissolve, the droplets of water clinging to his skin. Steve was decidedly not blushing. Mysterious sexy water men did absolutely nothing for him. When Steve looked back up, Bucky blinked curiously at him.  
_"Your face is pink,"_ he observed.  
_"Is it supposed to be? Is that part of the spell to make the lines?"_ Steve blinked back before bursting out laughing.  
"No, Bucky. My face is pink because... Well, because you're attractive. And I think your curiosity is adorable. The lines aren't a spell, they're to remember with. I can show you how some of them make words, if you'd like? But first, please let me draw you, I've been itching to since yesterday. Can you look up at the top of that willow over there, please? Thank you. Try to keep still."

*

Steve really only got a few preliminary sketches done- just enough to realize that Bucky looked best in the strange combination of charcoal and watercolour. Although, given how strong his features were, the charcoal is no surprise, and everyone looks good in watercolour. By late afternoon, Steve could see the excitement in Bucky's features start to turn to boredom.  
"Okay," he said, finally,  
"Do you want to see?" Bucky was over in a flash. His head tipped curiously as he looked at the little sketches- no more than studies, really- and his blue-gray eyes widened.

 _"How is- how does that- Show me again,"_ he demanded, pushing the contè into Steve's palm. Steve, admittedly confused, doodled a little flower in the corner of the page with the last sharp edge of the contè.  
"Do you want to try, Bucky?" He asked. Bucky looked like Steve had just given him the earth itself. Steve turned to a new page in his sketchbook and pulled a new chalk out of the altoids tin he kept his chalk pastels and contè in.  
"Here," he explained,  
"These lines make sounds. In particular your name. B-U-C-K-Y spells 'Bucky.' You with me so far?"

 _"Those lines mean... Me?"_ Bucky took the offered contè in his left and shakily copied Steve's block letters. Steve nodded and smiled at him.  
"Yeah. But you can write it all kinds of ways. For example..." He wrote 'BUCKY' in elegant cursive capitals,  
"Or maybe..." Lowercase printing,  
"Even..." As a proper noun in neat cursive,  
"Like this." In gothic calligraphy with the square side of the contè. Bucky blinked and set to copying them down, writing as bad as a four-year-old's on the first day of Kindergarten, but enthusiastic.

 _"How do you write your name?"_ He asked when he was satisfied. Steve printed his name carefully for Bucky to look at. Bucky frowned.  
_"We don't share any lines."_ He said. Steve blinked.  
"Any... Oh, any letters? Well... Steve is short for Steven, and Bucky is a nickname for Buchanan, so we both have 'n's, I suppose." He wrote out 'Steven' and 'Buchanan' for good measure. Bucky smiled and scrawled out the new names. The corner of Steve's lip twitched. Bucky could be centuries, or even millennia old, but he was still just as curious as a child. He might think he's a bit adorable. Despite having tried to eat him yesterday.  
"There you go, you're gettin' it. Now here, I'll show you which letters make which sounds..."

*

Steve came back early the next morning with his grandfather's battered volume of fairy tales to find Bucky already waiting for him on the bank.  
"Good morning," he called when he was still a ways off. Bucky turned instantly and grinned when he saw him coming.  
"Brought you something," Steve told him when he got a little closer.  
"Can't get it wet, though, okay? It's important to me." He handed Bucky his bag so he could sit down before taking it back and pulling out the heavily illustrated volume.  
"This was my father's, and his father's before that. It's a book of stories. It's full of stories about people like you, Bucky. Of course, they got a lot wrong, so you'll have to bear with me, but my dad always used to read me the one I want to show you. Do you want to hear it?" Bucky nodded.  
_"Yes, I'd like that."_  
"It's about a young mermaid and a sailor..."


	2. 15/03/21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because I couldn't get this to work last chapter, I'll try again. Bucky lives in the very gross East River:  I originally wrote it as a much smaller river (resembling the Otanaabe, which I grew up on). I changed it. Oops! But basically Steve goes to one of those waterfront parks, and Bucky either shifts when there's nobody around (haha fat chance in New York) or finds a private place I guess. I'm sorry, I'm trying to consolidate for future chapters!

Steve, true to his word, came back every day he possibly could for the rest of the summer and the fall. He and Bucky grew to be good friends- Bucky preferred to eat deer anyway, humans were too greasy these days- and Bucky learned more about humans every day. By late August, he could read at a 9th grade level with ease, and he was starting to write poetry. But the summer couldn't last forever.

"I'm going to have to go back to my job soon, Bucky," Steve told him one day.  
"I won't be able to come back every day. Maybe not even some weeks." Bucky made a frustrated noise.  
_"What is your job, Steve? You never actually told me, except that you have one."_ Steve smiled and told him,  
"I teach people. There are a lot of humans who are curious about people like us, but they don't know that we really exist. I have to teach them about us in the context of fiction, so I became a mythology professor at SUNY. I have to tell them all of the misconceptions, too, though, because nobody would believe me if I told them the truth."

Bucky looked angry and concerned at this.    
_"Why not? You've never told a lie in your life,"_ he declared, his eyes indignant at the idea that somebody might not believe his friend. Steve sighed.  
"It's not so much that they'd think I was _lying_ , Buck," he explained,  
"But without scientific evidence, they would think I was going insane, and at best I would lose my teaching license. At worst... They've got places called 'institutions' where they could lock me up. I would never be able to come and see you again. Even _with_ evidence, it's a stretch." The look on Bucky's face made it clear exactly how little he wanted that to happen.  
_"They could take you away?"_ He asked, his head cocked to the side.  
"Yeah, Buck. They could take me away. But I would probably have a day to say goodbye. I could bring you all of my books, if you wanted. You'd never have to worry about running out of things to read," he promised.

If looks could kill.  
_"Steve, you are my **friend** ,"_ Bucky snapped indignantly,  
_"If you think I care more about **running out of books** than I do about **never seeing you again,** maybe you shouldn't come back tomorrow."_ Steve blinked. He hadn't realized that Bucky saw him as much more than somebody to teach him about humans.  
"I..." But Bucky was already making his retreat into the water.

*  
*   *

  
The next day, Steve did, in fact, stay home. But it was because he was working on a portrait of Bucky, partly because he wanted to, and partly as an apology. In the portrait, Bucky was at an angle away from the viewer, looking up, and his hair gradually transformed into water halfway down his back. His eyes were full of laughter, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. It was in acrylic, some of which had been thinned and some of which hadn't, giving it a texture that the laminator was going to hate Steve for.

He had stayed up all night working on it, had managed to forget to eat, and he probably had paint all over his face, but around dawn on the third day, the second it was out of the laminator (and isn't loose canvas a bitch in there) he practically ran to the riverbank.  
"Bucky," he called when he got there, out of breath,  
"Bucky, please, it's Steve, I need to show you something," and he collapsed on the bank, unconscious.

*  
*   *

  
Steve had come back for him. Steve had painted this picture of him and run from his house, half-dressed and probably not having slept. _His Steve had come back for him._ Bucky produced a wool blanket from the water and wrapped it tightly around bird bones and blond hair as he waited for his friend to wake up. As Steve slept, he crooned to him softly, at pitches that even if he had been awake, Steve probably would not have heard. But Bucky was happy, because it meant his friend would never have to fall for him like sailors and washerwomen had.

*  
*   *

  
When Steve came to, it was to Bucky's strong arms around him and his ear against a chest that was vibrating in a way that generally meant singing. He hummed and wriggled closer, loving the coolness of Bucky's embrace.  
_"Thank you,"_ Bucky murmured into his hair near his ear,  
_"It's beautiful. But, Stevie, please take care of yourself. You need to sleep and eat. Just because it's probably less often than the average person, that doesn't mean that you don't need to. Okay?"_ Steve nodded in agreement before reaching up to squish Bucky's mouth.  
"Shh. M'tired. And you volunteered as a pillow." Bucky laughed quietly at that, but stopped talking and let Steve sleep, stroking his hair gently.

*  
*   *

  
_"What if I went with you?"_ Bucky asked the next time Steve woke.  
_"Would they believe you then? If I shifted in front of everyone?"_ Steve sat up and rubbed his eyes.  
"Went with me where? What're you talkin' about, Buck?" He yawned, trying to catch up with Bucky's thought process in his half-asleep state.  
_"To where you work. You said that you teach people about things like me, right? And you probably have some sway over the water yourself, whether you know it or not,"_ Bucky explained,  
_"That could really help. If I shifted and you controlled water somehow, we might be able to show the humans that people like us exist."_ Steve yawned, but nodded.  
"Can you stay away from the water for that long, though, Bucky? I don't want to hurt you," he asked, thinking through the logistics as his mind cleared. Bucky nodded.

 _"I leave the water for the entire winter, Steve, I'll be fine. Have you ever influenced water before? And I mean in a not-human way."_ Steve thought for a second.  
"When I was about nineteen, once. It was after my mother died. But I thought maybe it was- I was probably just seeing things. I hadn't eaten or slept in days, Bucky, I-"  
_"What happened?"_ Bucky interrupted.  
"I had- I had a case of bottled water and I froze them all. They exploded and everything, but- but it was in the winter, our apartment was draughty, it was probably-" the look on Bucky's face cut him off. Bucky drew a sphere of water up from the river, picking a minnow out of it with a look of annoyance on his face.  
_"Here. Freeze this."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you're re-reading (does anybody else do that or is it just me?) you'll notice that I changed the picture. It is now the East River, to allow Steve to live in Brooklyn (also it kinda goes with the Winter Soldier's grunge vibe lol)  
> Also, I'd like to point out that this got more hits + kudos than any of my other works have gotten in a month in the 24 (discounting the server blackout) hours it's been up. Thanks, guys! Comment if you like it, seriously! Feed me!


	3. 15/03/28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took longer! I had a relapse of my eating disorder and though I tried to write, I read it again now that I'm doing better and realized I had to re-write almost the whole thing. So if the SHIELD part makes absolutely no sense, it's because I was near fainting when I wrote it the first time. Comments and kudos feed my demons! (and as to questions of how I'm doing, I've started the 'grazing' technique- I'm up to 1500 calories per day in six small meals instead of three big ones. So I'm managing to get the required amount of food now c: )

"Any questions so far?" Steve asked, turning to face his pupils. A blond in the back row raised his hand.  
"Barton, yeah, go ahead," he acknowledged. He and Bucky had talked to Clint before class- Clint was one of the few people who Steve had felt they could trust with this, and it was all the more convenient that he regularly piped up during Steve's lectures. The third-year student mumbled something and Steve shook his head a little.  
"Clint, either speak up or sign, you know I don't hear good," he scolded.  
 **Sorry, boss,** Clint signed, also speaking aloud.  
 **No problem. What was your question?** Steve replied seamlessly, just like they had practised. He and Clint conversed more often than was perhaps appropriate for a professor and his student, but it was rare for either of them to come across others with major hearing loss who were so well-adjusted.  
 **I was just wondering what it's supposed to look like when a nixie...** He had to spell that out,  
 **Y'know... Changed.** Steve smiled and nodded.  
"An excellent question," he continued to sign for Barton but spoke louder for the rest of the class,  
"Bucky? Could you come to the front now please?" He asked.

Bucky looked up from where he had been huddled at the back of the class with a cheap sketchbook and a pack of crayons, doodling. He went and stood next to Steve, facing the class.  
"Remember how we practiced?" Steve murmured. Bucky nodded shortly.  
"Barton, maybe this..." Steve trailed off as Bucky shifted to match his form, clothes and all,  
 _"...Will answer your question,"_ Bucky finished with a smirk. The lower register of his voice now matched Steve's, but the higher was foreign and intoxicating. Their audience, aside from Clint, who had seen this trick a few times, gasped in shock. Steve smiled.

"Anyone have a bottle of water?" He asked. A girl in the front tossed him a Nalgene.  
"Cheers," he nodded his thanks as he caught it and unscrewed the cap. Bucky, who had changed back to his usual, Selkie form, pulled the water from it and made it dance around the air for a while. He changed it into a shoe, and a teddy bear, and then back into water.  
 _"This next part is Steve,"_ he told them, as they were unsure how clear it would be to an observer. Steve concentrated hard, drawing from the pain he had felt every day since his mother's death, and froze the water, which crashed to the floor and shattered. From there, he melted it and let Bucky scoop the water back into the bottle. The crowd was entirely silent.  
"Shit's gonna go _viral_ ," somebody said. Bucky smiled down at Steve.

*  
*   *

"You can't take him from the river." Steve said, arms folded and shoulders square.  
"Trust me, I know this. He'll get withdrawal, it happened to my mother. It'll take years and years, and at first even he'll think he's fine but then suddenly he won't be, and everyone will know.  You can't take him." He was trying to keep his calm in the face of some men in black- SHIELD something or other- but his demeanour was rapidly deteriorating.  
 _"Steve, I'll be fine-"  
_ " **NO!** Bucky, you have no idea how long they want to take you for! You- You'll _die_ before they're done! They're gonna take you away from me, and on top of that, the river's gonna die without you. Bucky, I- I can't let what happened to my ma happen to you. Not if there's **anything** I can do to avoid that."  
 _"Steve-"  
_ "YOU'LL **DIE,** BUCKY. Do you even know what that _means_?"

"Excuse me, Professor Rogers, but I don't think you understand. We won't be taking him from the river, we want to observe him there. Observing a creature like... Bucky... in a lab would yield next to nothing insofar as results. We want to know how he interacts with the environment, we aren't interested in his vitals or his endurance or any of that." Steve took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around Bucky. Bucky smiled and nuzzled his face into the spot between Steve's neck and shoulder.  
"Agent... Coulson, was it?" The older man nodded and smiled.  
"Yeah, _fuck_ you. That's no better. All you need to know is that Bucky helps make sure the fish don't overpopulate, and that he eats deer. And not very often, either, like once a month or something, right, Buck?"  
 _"Once every two months, actually,"_ he corrected.

The agent's jaw set.  
"Listen. Asking was only a courtesy. 'Bucky' is not human, and therefore, I do not have to give him the same courtesy I would afford one. I _do_ have the power to do this by force, and I _will_ use it, if I have to." Steve raised an eyebrow.  
"You realize he's a shapeshifter, right? He could be anyone. He could leave at any time he wanted."  
"Heat tracers. He's cold-blooded."  
Steve's jaw set.  
"Okay, and what about me? I can freeze water at will and you're just letting me off Scott-free?" Coulson blinked.  
"I assumed you were one of Dr. Xavier's students. Aren't you?"  
"Who the Hell is Dr. Xavier? I can do that because my mother was a _siren_ ," Steve explained through his teeth, fists clenched. Some of the water on the surface of the river froze.  Coulson sighed.  
"This just got a whole lot more complicated, didn't it? Alright, then. I wanted to just observe Bucky, but I guess both of you are going to have to come with us, since you obviously won't come alone." Here, he turned to his cronies.  
"May, Ward, get these two onto the Bus. Any means necessary."

Steve kicked and fought against the agent holding him until she knocked him unconscious.

*  
*   *

When Steve woke up, Bucky was holding him like he had that night with the painting. They were in a room that had no clear exits- no windows or visible doors.  
"Bucky?" He croaked. Bucky smiled down at him.  
 _"Hey,"_ he whispered. Steve's face scrunched up in a yawn as he sat up slowly, trying to stretch his back out. He really needed to get that surgery. Bucky sat up next to him and waited for it to hit.  
Steve blinked.

"Bucky," he started,  
"Why didn't you shift and run?" The nix made a noise in the back of his throat and wrapped his arms around Steve. Steve gripped Bucky's waist, but sighed.  
"You're gonna get sick," he mumbled into dark hair,  
"You're gonna fall apart like my ma did and I'm gonna have to watch. Again. Bucky, I wasn't lyin' when I said they'd take you for longer than they said. They said they were only takin' her for a couple'a days, and they kept her for _five years_. I can't watch that happen to you, too." His voice was shaking as he remembered how greenish-pale his mother's skin and eyes had gone toward the end. Bucky gripped him tighter and buried his face in his shoulder.  
 _"Steve, I- I panicked. I was all alone before, and I've gotten used to talking to you and I froze up. Literally. They had to carry me into this thing."_ Steve sighed and rubbed up and down his friend's back.  
"It's gonna be alright, Buck. I'll take care of you as best I can, I promise. I just- I wish you'd listened to me in the first place, that's all. We'll be okay."

Just then, a door opened out of the wall on their left.  
"Hello? Um. We just have a few questions for each of you, if you wouldn't mind? No? No. Good. Okay. I'm Leo Fitz, this is my associate, Jemma Simmons, and we'll be working with you to... Help give science a better understanding of you and how you work. Now first off, how old are each of you?" Steve blinked, bewildered. This was a kid. He had been expecting an old man with a condescending voice, like had stolen his mother. This guy barely looked the same age as him.  
"Ummm..." Steve was really making use of his PhD here.  
"I don't know how old Bucky is. Nixen don't have the same concept of time as humans. But I'm guessing at least three hundred, probably more, judging by how he talks about 'before the water died'. I'm 31." Simmons frowned.

"Carbon dating?" She asked.  
"You take a sample from him, he'll just turn back into water," Steve explained.  
"And even if he didn't, you might just get the results for the Selkie whose form he's using." Bucky tugged at the hem of Steve's shirt; his English, while better than it had been, could still use some work, and he was struggling to keep up with the conversation.  
 _"Stevie, I can't understand, it's too fast,"_ he whispered in their language, making sure Steve could see his mouth,  
 _"What's going on?"_ Steve explained how it was important for Fitz and Simmons to know how long he and Bucky had been alive for, and how long they would probably live for. Bucky nodded and looked up to Simmons, because for all that Fitz wasn't exactly intimidating, Simmons seemed more approachable.  
 _"The River Buchanan. That's me. I die when it dies, and it dies if I die. Not a day sooner, not a day later. That's how my people work,"_ he explained at the speed he was comfortable in for English.

Both scientists' jaws, not to mention Steve's, dropped.  
 _"I'm fairly young,"_ Bucky went on,  
 _"The youngest in my family. If I were human, and in the same place in my lifespan, I would be about Steve's age. Perhaps a little older."_ Fitz shook his head and blinked as he recovered.  
"The River Buchanan? I've never heard of it," Simmons worried, biting her lip.  
"Maybe we could do some carbon dating at the site- do you know where the river is?" She asked, looking to Fitz to see if he had heard of it.  
"I don't think that the river is actually called 'Buchanan,'" Steve piped up,  
"Because from the geographical description, it sounds like Ireland, and there's no Irish river called anything close to that. I'd try-"  
"-Blackwater!" Simmons exclaimed.  
"Same number of syllables, could potentially have sounded similar from underwater," Fitz reasoned, frowning and nodding.  
"We'll start there. Thank you!" Simmons exclaimed, and the scientists dashed out.

 _"What's going on? Too fast again,"_ Bucky complained at Steve. Steve smiled and told him,  
"We're taking you back home, Bucky. Back across the Salt." Bucky blanched and Steve physically felt him grow colder in his arms.  
"What is it?" He asked,  
"What's wrong, Buck?" His smile was rapidly fading.  
 _"I can't- I can never go back,"_ Bucky crooned mournfully, tracing little lines on Steve's forearm with his icy fingertips.  
 _"Never, never. Never back to my spring or my willows or little fish."_ Steve's brow furrowed in worry as he comforted his friend.

*  
*   *

Cold. Cold, too cold, dying cold. Too cold for Steve to touch, but it didn't seem to be stopping him. Bucky wanted to warm up, wanted to be warm, warm like blood, warm like Steve, but he couldn't. Not when these new people were taking Steve _there_. Not when they were going where Bucky couldn't protect him.  
 _"Steve,"_ he croaked, his icy breath making the blond flinch,  
 _"You can't go, when we get there. You have to stay here. Stay safe. Can you do that, Steve? Promise me you'll be safe. Please."_ Why did Steve look like he was upset? Steve needed to be happy, why wasn't he? Bucky cupped the side of Steve's face, using the fabric of his hood as a barrier for the cold. Steve nodded and turned his face toward Bucky's hand, nudging him to put his other hand on the back of his head.

Bucky sighed and held his friend close.  
"I'm sorry, Bucky," Steve murmured, rubbing at Bucky's hands. Bucky's brow furrowed.  
 _"What do you mean?"_ Steve wasn't making sense today. Why should he be apologizing when Bucky was the one preventing him from doing things? Bucky didn't like this. He liked it better when Steve made sense.  
"I'm sorry that you don't feel safe in your home. Nobody should have to leave the place they love, especially not if they're as tied into it as you are. Did something happen? Why don't you want to go back?" Bucky shook his head and rested his cheek on the crown of Steve’s head. There were a lot of things that he didn’t understand yet, that he maybe never would, but he knew that Steve didn’t need to know about Brock.  
 _“It’s nothing. I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s just been a long time since I’ve been… Home. It will be nice to see my mother and sister again, maybe… Maybe you could meet them? If you want,”_ he suggested, warming slightly at the idea. He felt Steve smile.  
“I’d love that, Bucky.”


	4. 15/04/18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, guys! BUUUUT, to make up for it, this one is almost twice as long as the other ones! So that's pretty cool! The songs that Steve sings to Bucky are traditional (welllll... Siuil a Run is. An Eala Bhan is a song written at the Battle of the Somme by Dòmhnall Ruadh Chorùna for his girlfriend (I guess? He was her suitor), Maggie McLeod.) Siuil a Run is actually supposed to be sung by a lady, but I like to think that Steve's dad sang it to him as a lullaby (He didn't die in this AU) when he was a kid. I'm putting links in, but this is a tidbit that I thought people would be interested in/people who aren't in a position to open the link. (An Eala Bhan is traditionally sung by a man, but I couldn't find Manran's version on Youtube. It's on Spotify for those who have accounts, and it's the best version in my uneducated opinion.) MAKE SURE TO RIGHT-CLICK AND OPEN IN A NEW TAB!
> 
> In any case, enjoy the update!!!!!

If there was one thing Steve knew, it was that Something had happened to make Bucky leave his river. He didn't want to force his friend to talk about it, but at the same time... SHIELD was going to go ahead with their plan to show up there unless Bucky gave them a reason not to. Maybe even if he did. The least he and Steve could do was try, though.

"Bucky," he murmured.  
_"What is it, Steve?"_ Bucky yawned, rubbing his eyes. Steve cupped his still-too-cold cheek, trying to get him to smile.  
"I just want you to know how much I care about you. I... I think you're the closest friend I've ever had, and I want you to know that. Please don't ever doubt that. You don't have to say anything back, it's okay. I just want you to know that I'd do anything for you." Bucky yawned again and pressed his lips to Steve's wrist.  
_"I've never had a friend before at all. I care about you, too, Steve,"_ he murmured sleepily. _“So pretty. Pretty like a picture, Stevie.”_ Steve blushed and chuckled.  
“You tired, Buck?” Bucky nodded, then shook his head, yawning.

“That looks an awful lot like a ‘yes’ to me,” Steve mused, pushing Bucky’s hair out of his eyes.  
_“I’m **not** tired,”_ Bucky explained, _“I’m just not used to being in this form for so long at one time. Usually I can just change back when you go home, but… If I did that here, I’d evaporate. And you’d probably get all wet, too, so I should just stay like this. I might try to sleep though. That would be a new experience.”_ Steve nodded.  
“You try that, Buck. I’m going to see if I can talk to one of the people driving this thing, okay? I’ll look out for you,” he promised. Bucky yawned and snuggled down into the blankets. When he was sure Bucky was asleep, Steve looked into the corner of the room and spoke aloud in English:

“Alright. Whoever’s listening, because I know you are, I need to talk to you. Privately. Also can you please get something for Bucky to shift in?”

 

*  
*   *

Steve didn't know what to think of Agent May. On one hand, she could probably kill him with three limbs tied behind her back. On the other hand, though... In a really weird way, she reminded him of his mom. An 'I-don't-talk-about-feelings-because-I-don't-know-how-to-without-making-people-cry' kind of way, but still. Or at least, that was the vibe he was getting.  
"You wanted to talk, we're talking. This is protocol. Now what do you need?" She asked harshly in response to Steve's complaint about Skype.  
"I, um. I'm just not sure that taking Bucky back to Blackwater is the best idea. I- he kind of... Freaked out. When I told him. I'm not sure if you saw." May nodded on-screen, her lips pursed.  
"We recorded a sudden drop in body temperature, but we still can't understand whatever language you two speak when you're alone, if that's what you're asking."

"I'm sorry about that. Bucky's English is dodgy at best, so... It's usually quicker if we just speak our language. It's a general water spirit language, it's spoken all over the world. I can work on a dictionary, if you'd like?" The agent sighed.  
"Just get to the point, Dr. Rogers. Why would it be a bad idea to take Bucky back to the river?" Steve bit his lip.  
"Well... You see, river spirits, especially nixen like Bucky, don't tend to leave their rivers in the first place. My ma, she left because she got pregnant with me and her family didn't approve, but Bucky... He won't even talk about it. He must've left a long time ago, too, and never gone back, because he talks all the time about before colonials got here... That's one of his main complaints, is that we fucked up. Listen, I know that this isn't what you want to hear, but if you have to take the plane there, let me and Bucky stay on board. Have somebody sit with us, whatever you need, but don't make him face that place."  
May frowned, but nodded.  
"I'll talk to Agent Coulson," she told him, and the screen went blank.

"Thanks," Steve muttered into the empty air before turning and heading back to the room he and Bucky were being held in. Bucky was back to being water whenever he needed the rest, courtesy of a bathtub-like thing that a pair of young agents had dragged in that morning. When Steve got in, though, it looked like Bucky was in the form of a crow, sitting on the edge of the container. He cocked his head at Steve, who chuckled. "You would be a crow, wouldn't you? You love pretty things." Bucky The Crow beat his wings in a way that somehow managed to be sarcastic before taking flight and circling the room a few times. "Yeah, I know, I wanna go out too. We just gotta be patient, that's all. They'll let us out. They're not as bad as I thought they'd be."

 _"Stevie?"_ Bucky's voice called from the tub. _"Who are you talking to?"_ Steve's head whipped around to see Bucky sitting in the tub, rubbing his eye.  
"But if you're- then who's--?" Both sets of eyes widened and turned to stare at the crow.  
_"Steve,"_ Bucky called gently, _"Get behind me. Now."_ Steve nodded and complied, climbing into the tub to sit behind his friend.  
"What is that, Bucky?" Steve asked as calmly as he could muster. Bucky took a deep breath.  
_"He's another elemental. Looks like I'm trespassing."_ He let out a series of low whistles and clicks that the crow responded to in kind. Steve watched the exchange with fascination, wondering exactly what was being said. Bucky sighed. _"I need you to do as I ask you, okay? He's asking me for proof that I am who I say I am."_ Steve nodded and waited for Bucky to start singing.

 _"Stevie,"_ he sang sweetly, _"Can you hear me okay? Nod if you can hear me."_ Steve could feel himself going a bit fuzzy already, quicker now that he was going willingly. He nodded, wanting nothing but to make Bucky happy. Bucky smiled. _"There you are. Can you give me a smile? Nice big sunshine smile, that's it. There you go. I need you to do something for me, okay, Stevie? Can you be a good boy and listen?"_ Steve nodded again. He loved Bucky's smile, he could look at it all day. _"I need you to come here. There you are, good boy, can you stand up for me? Good, now put your foot right here on this side of the tub,"_ Bucky guided and praised him gently, taking his hands and moving with him to make sure he didn't fall, until Steve was standing with one foot on either side of the tub, his hands resting lightly on Bucky's shoulders.

 _"So good when you listen to me, Stevie,"_ he praised, his hands resting on Steve's sides, fingers slotted with his ribs. _"Now I need you to do one more thing for me, okay? You've been so good so far. I just need you to do the same thing as you're doing now, but I want you to use your hands instead of your feet. It's easy, see? Watch me,"_ he continued, bending forward to show Steve how to replace his feet with his hands and carefully lift his legs up into the air. Steve leaned forward, copying his friend. **If he could just--**

And the spell was broken, because Steve fell on his face. Bucky, with his reflexes, managed to shift into a very large wolf in time to cushion most of Steve's fall, but it was still jarring enough to snap him out of it. Ooh. And possibly break his nose. Steve sat up as soon as he was able to, rubbing Bucky's belly. Bucky rolled over and stood, licking Steve's face before jumping out of the tub to talk to the crow. Some growling was involved this time, but before it could escalate, Agent May and the two other agents who had brought the tub in that morning burst into the room.  
"What the Hell is going on in here?" The male agent asked, pointing his gun at Bucky.  
"Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him, it's not his fault!" Steve yelled, launching himself over to wrap his arms around Bucky, who had turned to face the new threat. Bucky whined as Steve clutched at his fur.

"Who's the bird?" Agent May asked, gesturing to it with her gun.  
"I don't know!" Steve exclaimed. "It was in here when I got back, I thought it was Bucky at first!" The bird in question was now preening itself, occasionally hissing at Bucky in a way that was somehow menacing.  
"We really need to get more holding rooms," May sighed. "Alright. Skye, Ward, you stay here and make sure Bucky's still civil. I'll figure something out for the bird."

*  
*   *

"Sooooooooooo..."  Agent Skye started, earning a glare from Agent Ward, "Shapeshifter, huh?" Bucky, who was still in wolf form, wagged his tail slightly. Ward rolled his eyes and quickly finished setting Steve's nose.  
"Ow!" The professor yelped, reaching up to gingerly touch the bridge. Bucky's ears pricked up and he sneered at Ward. "I'm fine, Buck, don't worry about it," Steve assured him, patting the top of his head. Bucky's eyes narrowed at the agent in warning before he turned to Steve, licking at his face. Steve huffed and scratched him behind the ears. "Why are you still a wolf, anyway? I mean, I'm not complaining, but..." He trailed off, stroking from behind Bucky's ears to just behind his shoulder blades, and rested there. "... I dunno. I guess I'm just used to you bein' more talkative than this.” Bucky approximated a shrug and laid his head in Steve’s lap.

“Dr. Rogers, do you have any idea why this… crow… might’ve been here?” Ward asked. God, that guy was such a meatball. It wasn’t even what he said, but Steve just wanted to sock him in the jaw as hard as he possibly could. That probably wasn’t the best idea Steve had ever had; He might break his hand.  
“Buck said something about… fuck, I don’t remember. An... elemental?” Bucky nodded in his lap. “I guess he thought Bucky was trespassing. Wanted Bucky to prove his identity, so he hypnotized me. Although,” he turned to Bucky, “I wasn’t expecting you to make me do acrobatics. Next time, can’t you just make me hop around like a monkey or some shit? It’s better for my back.” Bucky whined and covered his face with his paws. “Awe, come on, Buck, don’t be like that,” Steve sighed.

Skye popped her gum and dropped her hand from her hair to rest on her bent knee.  
“You know, when I found out we’d be babysitting a shapeshifter and a… Whatever you are, I was expecting it to be a lot more exciting,” she whined. Steve shrugged and raised his eyebrows.  
“I just broke my nose because he managed to hypnotise me despite me being immune and also deaf, I think that’s plenty interesting. If you ask real nice when he goes back to Selkie form, he might sing for ya,” he suggested with a slight smirk. “He’s been showing me how, I might even give it a go.” Bucky perked up at that, ears springing to attention from where they had been pinned back in shame. Ward gave Steve a warning sort of look and raised an eyebrow. Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “Gotta suck the fun out of everything, don’tcha? I, personally, think it could be a very valuable learning experience for the two of you. Overcoming enemy coercion tactics, and all that? I’m not even that good at it yet,” he pouted.

“Wait, what?” Skye blinked. Steve and Ward gave her a second to catch up. “Is he a siren?” she asked, pointing at Bucky. Bucky’s fur bristled indignantly and he huffed. Steve made a face.  
“Well… I mean… You kinda _are,_ Buck,” he pointed out as he weighed the question. “A non-gendered, shapeshifting siren with a freakishly long lifespan, but… You sing. Shit happens. Things die.” Bucky flicked his tail indignantly. Steve turned back to Skye. “It’s complicated. Basically, Bucky’s the spirit of a river in Ireland. He eats deer and occasionally people, but apparently we don’t taste very good anymore, so we should be fine,” he explained.  
“I’m not sure whether to be grateful or offended,” she mused, her nose wrinkling.  
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Steve agreed. “But it’s alright. He’s a big softie. You get this guy a book, or something to draw with, and you’ll be fine. Right, Buck?” he asked, scratching behind his ears. “Giant fucking fur baby.”

*  
*   *

The bird was ‘dealt with’, according to Agent Coulson… And that wasn’t creepy at _all_ , no way, no sir, not at ** _all_**. Steve decided to sleep in the tub with Bucky that night. Which actually ended up being really weird, seeing as Bucky ‘slept’ in liquid form. Steve ended up with his left leg swung over the edge of the tub, his right arm angled up under his head to keep him from literally drowning in Bucky. Which was really strange, come to think of it. But Bucky told him it wouldn't be an issue anyway, because he was still conscious when liquified. God, was this Steve's life now?

*  
*   *

_"Good morning,"_ Bucky mumbled against the back of Steve's neck, waking him up. His arms were slung around his waist, gently holding him. Steve didn't know why he had expected his clothes to be wet, but... It was weird to be dry.  
"'Mornin', Buck," Steve yawned. "What'cha up to?" He asked. Bucky hummed and snuggled closer, pressing his face into Steve's hair.  
_"Smell good,"_ he informed him, kissing the base of his skull.  
"Do I, now?" Steve mused. Bucky nodded against him and breathed deep. Bucky's arms tightened around him minutely and Steve smiled. "What do I smell like, Mr. Tough Guy Water Spirit?" He asked, genuinely curious.

 _"Like **mine,** "_ Bucky crooned, stroking Steve's hair gently. Steve's breath caught in his throat. He coughed nervously.  
"Not even gonna buy me dinner first?" He tried to joke. Bucky's confusion was almost tangible.  
_"Would you like me to? I can prove myself, I can prove how well I can provide for you,"_ he offered. " _I can learn to warm myself up to make sure you're never cold in the night, or maybe... Maybe you would prefer if I submitted to you? I'll do anything you ask, Steve, honest,"_ he whispered, his breath making Steve shiver. Steve sighed.  
"What's gotten into you, Bucky? You've never shown any interest before... Are you feelin' alright?"

He shifted around in the Nix's embrace until they were face-to-face. Bucky started pressing little kisses to his face, and Steve pushed him gently away.  
"Bucky, babe, slow down," he murmured, brushing some hair from his eyes. Bucky's brow furrowed.  
_"Am I... Am I hurting you?"_ he asked. Steve shook his head and kissed the corner of his mouth.  
"No, sweetheart. Never. Listen, okay? If you still feel like this about me in a couple of days, then we'll have a talk. I'd be... I'd love to be your partner. I just want to make sure it's not a rash decision." Bucky nodded, withdrawing his arms and casting his gaze down. "Do you want me to hold you, Buck?" Steve asked. Bucky, eyes downcast, nodded slightly and curled so his head was tucked under Steve's chin. "Do you want me to brush your hair, too?" Another timid nod.

"If I wasn't tone-deaf, I'd sing to you," Steve whispered, stroking his hair with one hand and down his back with the other. Bucky nudged himself closer and traced Steve's throat with the tips of his fingers.  
_"Please, Stevie? Got such a pretty voice,"_ he murmured. Steve sighed.  
"What would you like me to sing to you?" He asked. Bucky hummed the tune he wanted quietly.  
_"I never understood how humans could sing the same songs again and again,"_ he mumbled against Steve's collarbone, _"Until I heard you sing this one."_ Steve smiled and kissed his forehead before starting to sing [_Siúil A Rún_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUT6H2m00Rs).

Bit by bit, Steve felt Bucky relax against him, less eager to pounce on him. He honest-to-God whined at him when the song ended, and Steve chuckled.    
"Another one?" Bucky asked, still a bit timid.  
"Of course, Buck," Steve promised, and began singing An Eala Bhan.

*  
*   *

A knock at the door interrupted Steve's sixth rendition of [_An Eala Bhan_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qWWgntTdO0). Steve cleared his throat, which was hurting more by the minute, and told whoever was knocking to come in.

"We're stopping for food. Any requests?" Skye asked from the doorway. Steve frowned and thought for a minute.  
"Where are we?" He asked cautiously.  
"Tiny little town. I think... Argyle? We only landed because May wanted Cheetos like, really bad."  
"But we're in Ireland, yeah?" Steve asked.  
"Yeah. Ireland."  
"Just some soda bread for me then, please." He mentally switched languages and turned to Bucky.  
"How long has it been since you ate, babe?" He asked, brushing a stray hair away from Bucky's face. Bucky frowned in thought.  
_"I could eat,"_ he reasoned.

Steve turned back to Skye.  
"If you can find venison, as much as you can get without arousing suspicion. Bucky's hungry, too."  
"Should we... Cook it?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.  
_"No, thank you,"_ Bucky replied in English.  _"I tried cooked meat once, and it didn't agree with me."_ Skye's eyebrows raised, but she nodded.  
"Okay, then. Anything else?" She asked. Steve frowned.  
"No, I think I'm good. I'll let you know, though."

*  
*   *

As soon as Skye left, Bucky curled back up under Steve's chin, snuggling close and breathing him in.  
"I don't think I can sing anymore, Buck," Steve admitted, stroking his hair back gently. Bucky whined, but nodded that he understood, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist.  
_"Does it hurt?"_ He asked, gingerly touching his fingertips to Steve's throat. Steve nodded, but pressed a kiss to his brow, so he must not have been too mad.  
"I'm sorry, Bucky. But sometimes this happens when humans sing for too long. I dunno why. I would sing longer for you if I could." Bucky smiled at that and pressed his lips to Steve's clavicle.  
_"Thank-you, Stevie,"_ he whispered.


End file.
